


Work From Home

by creepy_crawly



Series: Kink Bingo 2010 [15]
Category: NCIS
Genre: BDSM discussion, Collars, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s probably a good thing that she chose to work from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work From Home

Abby had laughed when Gibbs had told her where the latest tapes where going to be coming from—the look on his face had been classic—but the more she watched, the more she began to think that laughter had not been the best response. Perhaps a moan, or a groan, or even a whimper would have been better. If she had known what was going to be on the tapes that the club had sent her… Well. She probably would have stayed in her lab in the NCIS headquarters to watch through them. It would have helped her to fight against the desire, the temptation to just slide her hand down into her panties, to stroke, to rub, to touch herself. After all, at NCIS, anyone could walk into her lab at anytime, and Security had added a camera that oversaw most of the room after the incidents with her creepy stalker ex-boyfriend and Chip. A complete lack of privacy would have made resisting her less pure urges significantly easier.

Watching the tapes alone, at home, her on her comfy couch and the security tapes playing on her laptop was against the Geneva Conventions. It had to be. It was torture.

The club where the tapes had been pulled from (and, subsequently, the club where Gibbs believed that Petty Officer Jamison had disappeared from) was a local BDSM club, known for its leather and collar nights.

And Abby had a taste for collars.

She liked the way leather wrapped around a throat, clinging and holding and reminding its wearer that it was there. Collars meant ownership, meant belonging, meant being protected. It was like a physical touch, an embrace, a grasp. Collars were an extension of a hand, holding someone there, holding them tight.

Abby liked wearing her dog collars to work, but that was more for entertainment than for advertisement. She wanted to be the one at the back, buckling the leather on, tightening it down.

And these tapes were full of that sort of thing. People came and went under the camera’s watchful eye, laughing and serious, well-dressed and in whatever they could find. They came in pairs and they came alone. And so, so many of them came wearing collars.

Abby stifled a moan as she watched a tall, skinny man who looked so beautiful, so submissive walk into the camera’s view. He was wearing a button-down and slacks, and he sat down at the bar, ordered something. His neck was bare.

One hand sliding down her body, Abby watched him drinking his drink, imagining what it would feel like to wrap her collar around his long, elegant neck, what it would look like. Oh, but it would be beautiful!

He would be on his knees in front of her, she imagined, her fingers sliding between her folds. He would be looking up at her, so trusting and calm. He would tremble beneath the touch of the warm, butter soft leather; Abby would never put a collar on a sub that wasn’t perfectly ready and comfortable to be worn.

She shivered as her fingers slid across her clit. He would trust her, would trust her to put her mark on him. She would stroke her fingers across his throat, as slow and light and gentle as she was drawing her fingers across her lips. Then she would clamp her hand down on his throat, holding him there.

And still he would trust her, because the collar was still in her hand, pressed against his throat. She would slowly draw the collar around his neck, would close it, pull it tight, buckle it down. And just like that, he would be hers.

She whimpered, thrusting up against her own hand, biting down into her lip as she imagined the look in his eyes as she claimed him for her own. It was a beautiful picture, the tall, gorgeous man down on his knees, begging to serve her in any way he could. She shivered, shuddered, and came, imagining the way he would beg and plead.

She paused the video—Mr Beautiful was still at the bar—and panted, slowly pulling her hand from her panties. She felt weak and invigorated at the same time, her arms wobbling in time with the rhythmic clenching of her pussy.

Maybe it was a good thing she had brought the tapes home, she thought with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2010 kink bingo square "collars"


End file.
